


A Dash of Skim Milk

by howlingbuck



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: A lot of kissing happens, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Steve Rogers, Barista Bucky Barnes, Brief POV Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky is awkward and clumsy and adorable, Eventual Smut, Flirting, Fluff, Ice Skating, M/M, Military Background, POV Bucky Barnes, Pining, Some angst, They need to control themselves, and so does steve, with a bit of plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 17:55:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13393173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howlingbuck/pseuds/howlingbuck
Summary: It's not everyday that Bucky spills an entire gallon of milk on a paying customer at Sam's coffee shop.Especially when the man is probably the most gorgeous person Bucky has ever laid eyes on.





	A Dash of Skim Milk

It was an ordinary Monday morning in the early days of winter, flurries of snow covering the Brooklyn pavement, as Sam Wilson opens his coffee shop for the day.

For over five years now, Brewed Beans has been a booming business opportunity and an enjoyable way to keep busy ever since Sam’s boyfriend Riley had moved out west. Sam smiles to himself, counting the change in each of the drawers of the cash register and plugging in the coffee machines. The potent smell of coffee beans fills the air and envelopes him like a warm blanket. He hears a quick knock on the door and turns around to see Wanda and Natasha waiting in the entrance, dressed in their black long sleeve shirts with dark blue aprons tied around their waists, ready to begin their morning shift. Sam swiftly runs over to the glass door to unlock it.

“Good morning ladies! Hope it wasn’t too hard getting here today, with the snow and all.” Natasha and Wanda smile and step inside, taking off their hats and gloves.

“It wasn’t too bad, Sam. Wanda really insisted that we get here as soon as possible though, so she wiped out on an icy part of the sidewalk once or twice,” Natasha laughs and reaches over to turn the _Open_ sign on. Wanda smacks Natasha lightly on the arm, her face growing red with embarrassment.

“Says the person who tried throwing a snowball at me and hit a random guy passing us on the street instead.” Wanda smirks as Sam barks out a loud laugh.

“Alright, alright. You two are ridiculous. Now hurry up clocking in and start preparing today’s pastries,” Sam orders. It still felt strange to him that he owned this place and paid these two to work here for him.

He was lucky to find Wanda when he did. She had recently moved to the United States with only the clothes on her back, desperately trying to rid herself of her past. Natasha was also in a very bad place when Sam had first met her, pacing around his apartment complex muttering incoherent words to herself. After talking to them for only a few minutes and finding out that they were genuinely good people who were suffering, he offered them jobs at his coffee shop, and the rest is history.

All of his employees and a few of his favorite customers have become like a second family to him. Sam still finds it hard to believe considering the broken mental and emotional state he was in a few years ago when Riley left him.

“Sir yes sir!” Natasha mock salutes him and turns around on her heel towards the backroom, breaking Sam out of his thoughts. With a soft chime from the door, the first customer walks into the shop just as Sam turns around. He looks up and notices the customer, a disheveled man he’d never seen before, make his way towards the front register.

His long, dark, auburn hair covers nearly half his face, but Sam can still clearly see the distressed and panicked look in the man’s eyes as he takes in his surroundings. His clothes are matted and torn in many areas, and if Sam didn’t know any better, he would’ve figured this man was homeless.

“Hey man! Welcome to Brewed Beans, what can I get ya today?” Sam asks with a friendly smile on his face. The man jumps at Sam’s voice and reaches into his pockets, pulling out two crumpled dollar bills and gently placing them on the counter.

“This is all the money I have on me. I was really in the mood for some coffee, is-- is this enough?” The customer briefly looks up at Sam and quickly averts his gaze again. There are dark bags under his eyes and Sam thinks he notices a couple faint bruises scattered along his jawline as well, but he tries not to stare at the guy too much.    

“Well, you’re in luck! Our coffee is only $1.29, tax included, and you can even add another shot of espresso for 50 cents if you’re feeling extra crazy today,” Sam replies in his most professional voice.

“I’ll have that. The-- a coffee with another shot of espresso.”

“What’s your name, pal?” Sam quickly punches the order into the register and grabs an empty cup and the sharpie laying nearest to him.

“My name’s Bucky,” the customer says, handing over his money to Sam.

“Hmm, interesting name. Never heard that one before, I can tell you that much,” Sam huffs a laugh and hands him back his change, which Bucky just drops into the tip jar.

“Yeah, well, I guess my little sister thought ‘Bucky’ sounded better than ‘James Buchanan’.” Sam watches as Bucky’s tense shoulders finally drop as he keeps talking, feeling more comfortable with the conversation and the new environment he was in. “She started calling me that around the house and it just kinda stuck.”

“Hold up, you’re telling me that your parents actually named you James Buchanan? Man, that’s just cruel!” Bucky let out a laugh and nods his head, walking over to sit down at the stool closest to the counter top where Sam is working on his coffee. “Wait a minute… isn’t that the name of one of our presidents who was like, supposedly, gay?”

Bucky, honest to god, giggled. This brute, masculine, intimidating man that Sam figured would never as much as grin in his direction let out the softest giggle he had ever heard with his own two ears. This guy just kept surprising him by the minute.

“Yeah, well, you could say that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree in that case,” Bucky grins and rubs the back of his neck with his hand. Sam slides over his coffee, happily accepted by Bucky, who instantly curls his mitten-clad hands around the warm cup.

Sam flashes another grin at Bucky as the pair kept up a casual, friendly conversation with one another before the morning rush came in. After a few minutes, Natasha stuck her head out of the backroom door in a plea for help.

“Sam get your ass over here! Wanda just dropped the tray of muffins and we need help cleaning it up,” Natasha sighs loudly enough for Sam to hear all the way from the front of the store.

“Uh huh, I’m comin’,” Sam rolls his eyes and pats Bucky on the shoulder, heading towards the commotion. Considering it was only 6 in the morning and most customers didn’t end up coming around 7 or 8, Sam figured he could get away with stepping away from the counter top for a couple minutes.

 

After salvaging the tray of muffins as best as possible, Sam hastily made his way back to the storefront where, surprisingly, there were a few customers lined up waiting to order. More interestingly, Bucky stood talking to many of them about the store’s coffee selection. Sam froze in shock and awe at how Bucky seemed to completely come out of his shell as he flattered and charmed the customers waiting to pay for Sam’s food.

Sam walks up to his spot in front of the register with an award-winning smile across his face. “Hey everyone, sorry about that! We just had a little accident in the back, but everything’s cool now. I can help the first person in line.”

Sam rattles off orders one-by-one as Bucky makes his way back to his seat at the counter, delicately sipping his cup of coffee with a composed smile on his face. After making each of the drinks and giving them to the customers, Sam makes his way back over to Bucky, who looks up from his coffee mug shyly at him.

“Dude, that was amazing!” Sam lets out a sigh of relief as he wipes his hands on his apron. “I didn’t realize I was gone for so long and you just really helped so much you have no idea.”

Bucky grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and takes another sip of his coffee. “It’s no problem! Glad I could help, honest.”    

Sam plays with the cuffs of his long sleeve shirt, leaning over the counter top where Bucky was sitting. Bucky’s face was noticeably more relaxed than it had been when he first stepped through the doors of his coffee shop. His nervous, anxious persona seemed to transform into something more calm and curious as Bucky grew more used to his surroundings.

“Hey pal, what would you think about you getting a job here?” Sam asks with complete certainty in his voice. He needs more workers, that was for sure. Natasha and Wanda couldn’t stay here forever and Lord knows they’d need breaks every once in awhile if they did decide to stay.

Bucky also reminds Sam of those two in a way. It’s not like he viewed them as charity cases or something, he never thought of them in that respect. He just had a good feeling that Bucky needed a little push to help him get up on his feet, just like Wanda and Natasha did, and it always made his chest feel lighter to watch people he grew to love and care for bounce back and feel more confident and comfortable in themselves.

Bucky let out something that sounded like a cough mixed with a choke, his widened eyes landing on Sam. “Are you-- you can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious, Bucky. The two girls in the back can show you how to run the machines and make the drinks and we can work around your schedule however you’d like, me owning this place and all,” Sam smirks, looking back over at him waiting for an answer.

“Yes! A million times yes!” Bucky squeals and reaches over the counter to hug Sam as best he could. “You have no idea how tough it’s been trying to find a job. I know I don’t look the most presentable at times and I come off a little rough around the edges but I promise, Sam, I’ll work my ass off here. I promise.” Bucky tightens his grip, giving Sam probably the tightest hug he’d ever received.

“Yeah man, I trust you.” Sam replies, ruffling Bucky’s hair as he breaks the hug and steps back towards the kitchen where Natasha and Wanda were still working. “Hey girls! Come meet your new coworker!”

 

* * *

 

It’s been almost 3 weeks since Bucky has started working at Brewed Beans and he could easily say that this is the most content he’s ever felt in his life.

Getting into a daily routine has reminded him of his days serving in the military before his honorable discharge. Being at work from 9 in the morning until closing is also a way for Bucky to keep himself occupied and more importantly, pay his rent. His tiny apartment only a few blocks away has been a really big burden ever since he came back to the states, especially since most of the financial benefits he’s received from being in the army have gone towards his mental and physical health concerns.

Now, it’s easy to say that his landlord is significantly less pissed off at him.

Bucky opens the glass door of the coffee shop, smiling and waving to Sam as he makes his way over to clock himself in for his morning shift of the day. He teasingly bumps into Natasha, who’s in the middle of making a customer his specialty drink.

Natasha lets out a scream, nearly dropping the drink she’s holding. “Barnes, you better watch your ass!” Bucky chuckles to himself and grabs his apron from its hanging hook in the backroom door. He walks over to the now-empty cash register as Sam and Natasha fly through the motions of preparing all sorts of drinks, sandwiches, and pastries for the line of customers they have that’s nearly out the door.

Bucky doesn’t mind ringing customers up, as boring as that sounds. It’s surprisingly nice to be able to make small-talk with all sorts of different people, whether it be Kate, a college student who spends her free time crumpling up and throwing her used straw wrappers at the back of Sam’s head, or Logan, who grunts in response to anything Bucky says but lights up when he finally gets a sip of his iced coffee.

Anyways, it’s not like he spends all day at the register. He and whoever else is on shift often rotate between working as a cashier and a barista work half hour or whenever someone gets bored.

So, with a genuine smile on his face, Bucky steps up to the register, facing the customer next in line, and says, “Hi, welcome to Brewed Beans! What can I get you today?”

 

 

It’s only a few minutes of ringing customers up and embarrassingly spelling their names wrong on coffee cups when Bucky sees him.

Him.

The most beautiful human specimen Bucky has ever laid eyes on? Probably.

An actual manifestation of a Greek God? Definitely.

The embodiment of everything good in this world? Yes.

Stepping right up to the cash register, a man with strikingly bright blue eyes barely visible under a beanie covering his tuft of golden blonde hair gives Bucky a grin as he reads the overhead menu. Bucky tries opening his mouth to speak to the guy and ask him if he’s ready to order, but only an undignified squeak comes out, so Bucky quickly abandons the idea of greeting him.

“Good morning!” The man says, way too cheerful for someone who’s awake at 10 a.m., in Bucky’s opinion. He reaches into his bag and pulls out his wallet.

“Could I get a tall, hot caffè americano, two pumps of caramel syrup, with a dash of skim milk please?” The man says with a smile in his voice, his eyes meeting Bucky.

“Of course!” Bucky answers, relieved his voice didn’t betray him twice in a row. “That’ll be $2.59. Could I have your name?” Bucky freezes. Did that come off creepy and weird? That’s normal coffee shop etiquette, right? “I mean, uh, for the coffee cup, that’s all.” Fuck, now it’s weird. Dammit Barnes!

The guy just laughs, pulling his beanie off and running a hand through his ruffled hair. “My name’s Steve.”

“Steve! Okay! Cool, man. Bro. I’ll get that out to you in a few minutes.”

“And don’t forget the money,” Steve grins, handing a few dollar bills to Bucky. Steve’s fingers briefly brush his own and Bucky’s heart nearly stops in his chest. God, he really needs to get a grip. “Keep the change,” Steve calls behind his shoulder as he makes his way to an empty table in the far corner of the store.

Bucky lets out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding in.

“Everything good over here, Barnes?” Sam asks with a clap on Bucky’s back, making him jump.

“Yeah, everything’s good, yeah,” Bucky says, exasperated. He picks up a cup and writes Steve’s name and order on it carefully.  

“Any particular person catch your eye or are you just that overwhelmed to see me?”

Bucky snorts, discreetly pointing to the table where Steve is currently setting up his sketchbook. “That guy, I guess? I don’t really know him or anything I just--”

“Steve?!” Sam nearly shouts as Bucky quickly reaches over to try and cover his mouth from embarrassing him any further. “Steve Rogers, you son of a bitch, is that you?” Sam’s voice echoes throughout the store, which is dead silent besides the whirring sound of the espresso machines.

Steve stands up from his chair, a blinding smile across his face, and rushes over to where Sam and Bucky are huddled in front of the register. “Sam! Hey, man!”

The two meet in a hug as Bucky just stands there unable to move or speak or function like a normal human.

“Wanna sit and catch up for a bit? I’m sure my lovely employee over here can handle making your coffee, can’t he?” Sam teases, bumping his elbow into Bucky’s side.

Oh Christ, Sam’s really trying to kill him.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s coming right up,” Bucky smiles towards Steve and clumsily makes his way over to the coffee machine while Sam and Steve sit and talk at the nearest possible barstool where Bucky’s working. Of course.

And so what if Bucky overhears half of their conversation? It’s not like he’s purposefully trying to eavesdrop. I mean… they’re literally sitting less than three feet away from him. But yeah, maybe he is a little curious about Steve.

“Where have you been, man? It’s been like four years since you’ve been in here and you know you’ve always been my favorite customer,” Sam asks, a lighthearted, yet serious, tone apparent in his voice.

Steve rests his hands on the counter top in front of him and shifts in his seat. “Funny you should ask that,” he turns to speak to Sam. “I actually just got back from being overseas.”

Bucky’s eyes widen as he listens to their conversation. It seemed like there was a lot more to Steve than what was just on the surface, which Bucky found really interesting about the guy, despite only sharing a brief two minute conversation with him. He sighs, letting the shots of espresso drip into Steve’s cup and grabbing the jar of caramel syrup finish Steve’s order. The faster he finished, the less time he’d feel like a creep completely listening to their private conversation. At least that’s what he kept telling himself.

“Steve, you went out of the country? You didn’t even tell me?” Sam over-dramatically gasps, clutching his heart. “Steve Rogers… I thought we were friends.”

Bucky laughs quietly to himself. Sam’s sarcasm really never seems to go away, his jokes and irony somehow weaving themselves into every conversation. Bucky absentmindedly stirs Steve’s drink, mixing the pumps of caramel syrup with the coffee, feeling Steve’s gaze drop on him every once in awhile.

“Well, I uh, actually signed up for the military. Got sent back when I finished all my tours.”

It’s almost like it happened in slow-motion.

 

Realizing he needed to add a dash of skim milk to Steve’s coffee, Bucky reaches into the mini refrigerator and pulls out a fresh carton. As he makes his way back to the nearly-finished drink, he overhears probably the most important part of Sam and Steve’s conversation.

Steve was away for awhile. In the military. Just like Bucky. 

Because he’s actually the clumsiest person alive, Bucky stumbles and trips over his own two feet, sending the milk carton flying through the air. Now laying on the ground, he helplessly watches as the gallon of skim milk careens towards Steve, who is distractedly looking at Sam, not even considering the possibility of a milk jug flying towards him at lightspeed.

Bucky can’t look away as the carton slams into the counter top, spraying the Steve with every drop of milk that was once inside it.

Bucky Barnes is back at it again making a complete dumbass of himself. Thanks for coming, folks.

Steve stands up from his chair, clothes completely drenched in milk, the strands of his hair standing up in every possible direction. It would’ve been funny if Bucky wasn’t entirely mortified.

“Steve! I’m so sorry” Bucky practically sprints over to him, throwing the empty gallon of milk into the trash and grabbing a roll of paper towels, pressing them into Steve’s shirt as if that would even make a difference at this point.

Sam just glares at Bucky, muttering something under his breath about how goddamn awkward Barnes is around hot guys and makes his way into the backroom to get Steve another roll of towels.

Natasha, who was working on the cash register as the entire incident happened, just laughs and turns back to ring the next customer up.

The moment Sam returns next to Steve’s side, Bucky scrambles out of sight, completely flustered with the whole situation. Of course this happens to him. He hasn’t been on a date in _years_ and when he finally stumbles across a guy, who is not only ridiculously attractive but also has a very fascinating personality, Bucky just so happens to _literally spill a gallon of milk on him_. What is his life?

 

After waiting in the backroom for what feels like the amount of time it would take Steve to leave and take mercy on Bucky’s awkward soul, he finally drags his feet out towards the front of the store. And, because life hates him, Steve is still there, covered head to toe in paper towels. Bucky’s face turns bright red as he turns on his heel, intending to make a run for it and never show his face anywhere ever again.

“Hey, wait!” Steve calls out.

And Bucky is a weak man.

He turns back around, facing the object of his affections who just so happens to look like a walking disaster. Before either of them can say anything, Natasha makes her way over to Steve, carrying a fresh blueberry muffin sprinkled with confectioner sugar, and drops the plate in front of him.

“Next time you come in, Rogers, your coffee is on the house,” Natasha grins, not even leaving room for Steve to answer.

Bucky sighs in relief and brings his hands to his face. Maybe part of this situation is salvageable. Steve isn’t yelling at anyone demanding a refund and he’s not overly upset about this either. Maybe Steve doesn’t already hate Bucky.

“Steve, I’m really sorry. You have no idea,” Bucky says, walking over to the counter top where Sam is drying up the last drops of milk. “It was an accident, promise.”

“It’s okay, I actually think it’s pretty funny.” Steve offers Bucky a soft smile. “It’s not everyday you have a cute guy drop a gallon of milk on you.”

Has Bucky gone insane? Did that just happen? Steve. Calling Bucky… cute? Suddenly this day has gone from terrible to wonderful.

The corner of Bucky’s mouth twitches up into a smile. He reaches his hand over the counter to give Steve a handshake.

“My name is Bucky Barnes, in case you were wondering.”

“Well, I’m Steve, but I think you know that already.”

They both smile at each other, Bucky making it a point to ignore Natasha’s mocking gags in the background. Letting go of Steve’s hand, Bucky realizes that the paper towels have done very little in the way of cleaning Steve up. Considering the fact that it’s still the middle of winter, Steve would probably freeze to death leaving the warmth of the coffee shop. Remembering he has a spare sweatshirt in the backroom, Bucky excuses himself to get it.

“You can keep this,” Bucky says, shoving the sweatshirt into Steve’s arms. “It’s really cold out, you’ll freeze out there.”

“Thank you, Buck. But I can get by on my own,” Steve stubbornly answers, looking down at the sweatshirt and handing it back to Bucky.

And yep, Bucky has already completely fallen for this self-sacrificing, adorable, piece of shit. He reaches his arm out and places it on Steve’s shoulder.

“But the thing is, you don’t have to.”

Bucky watches as Steve’s body relaxes at his words, holding the sweatshirt close to his chest. Steve looks like he’s about to say something else before Wanda walks through the door, relieving Natasha of her shift.

“Hey guys!” Wanda cheerfully greets them all as she walks through the store. “Woah, what the hell happened in here?” She motions towards the garbage bin, currently full with soaked paper towels and a single empty milk carton.

“Don’t even ask,” Sam grumbles, throwing the last piece of paper towel into the trash.

 

* * *

 

Before the war, all of Bucky’s friends used to call him a hopeless romantic. Even his sister, Becca, had caught him giving other guys longing glances on the walk home from school, endlessly making fun of the way he’d stare at them until she had to nudge him in the shoulder.

And, for the record, Bucky is _totally_ not a hopeless romantic. Like… not even close. Why would you even assume that?

It’s not like he’s been looking at the door of the coffeeshop waiting for a certain blonde-haired, blue-eyed supermodel to walk through at any second, drop all of his belongs, run over and scoop Bucky off his feet and… yeah, okay maybe he is a little bit of a hopeless romantic.

He can’t help it though. It hasn’t even been a full 24 hours since he last saw Steve Rogers and Bucky can’t get him out of his mind.

The way he would brush the hair out of his eyes whenever he got flustered.

How he would look over at Bucky when he thought he wasn’t paying attention.

His full, pink lips that were only slightly chapped from the winter wind.

His full-body laugh.

His--

“Barnes, stop daydreaming and start cleaning those tables,” Sam calls over at him, immediately breaking his train of thought. “I’m not paying your dumb ass to make eyes at the glass door like you’re seconds away from making love to it.”

Bucky flushes a deep color red, flustered even more by Natasha’s laughs from all the way in the backroom. How did she even hear that?

He lets out a sigh, grabbing a clean rag and a bottle of disinfectant, making his way over the table in the cozy nook where Steve briefly sat yesterday. Turning his back towards the door to clean the surface of the table, Bucky is completely unaware when Steve walks into the store, shaking the snow and salt on his boots off at the floor mat.

Bucky only notices when he feels a light tap on his left shoulder. Turning around, he lets out an embarrassingly high-pitched yelp as he sees Steve standing behind him, a blinding grin spread across his face.

“Steve! What're you doing here?” Bucky asks, hoping his voice doesn’t sound as desperate as he feels.

Steve holds out the sweatshirt Bucky had given him yesterday, freshly cleaned and neatly folded in his hands.

“Came here to drop this off. And say hi to you, of course.”

Bucky smiles, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. He reaches out and grabs the sweatshirt, his fingers brushing Steve’s for a brief second.

“Well, the least I could do is make you a coffee,” Bucky shrugs his shoulders, ignoring the way his voice cracks.

Steve hums in agreement, asking for the same drink he ordered the day before.

“Just make sure not to add the whole carton of milk this time, Buck.”

Bucky chokes, turning around towards the espresso machine to hide the blush on his face. He lets himself be completely engrossed in his work, tuning out the faint music Sam has playing on the stereo and ignoring the way Steve is sitting tucked away in the corner of the shop.

 

His shoulders relax as he weaves through the motions of making Steve’s drink, finishing it and topping it with a dash of skim milk as requested. Bucky grabs a plastic lid and a sharpie from the counter top, hurriedly drawing a smiley face alongside Steve’s name on the top.

Bucky walks over to Steve’s table with his drink in his hand. He takes his time to look over the blonde, who’s hunched over the table, absorbed into whatever piece of work he’s drawing in his worn, leather sketchbook. Bucky lets out a soft cough as he reaches the table.

“Here ya go, Stevie! No milk cartons were harmed in the making of this coffee.”

Steve’s fingers wrap around the cup, his ocean blue eyes lighting up as he lets out a loud chuckle. Bucky smiles at Steve’s infectious laugh and the way he grabs his left pectoral muscle when he finds something especially funny.

 

* * *

 

It continues like that for the next few weeks. Steve walking into the store every weekend and ordering his usual specialty coffee which Bucky tops off with a smiley face or two. Sometimes he even leaves a couple heart doodles. Yes, he’s actually a 5 year-old trapped in an adult body.

They don’t speak much to each other, aside from a passing, friendly conversation as Bucky enters Steve’s order into the cash register. Bucky usually just watches him as he sips on his coffee, scribbling gently into his sketchbook.

Steve’s always so concentrated in his drawings he usually doesn’t notice the times where Bucky slides over a pastry onto his table, baked goods that Sam deems too misshaped or too burnt around the edges to put out on display.

When he finally picks his head up from his drawing, he just gives Bucky a wave and smiles softly before he goes back to working on his art. And Bucky totally doesn’t want to walk back over there and ask Steve what he’s drawing and smooth out the crease between his eyebrows. Definitely not.

 

On a particularly snowy March morning, Bucky walks into the store, wondering to himself how much longer he has to bundle himself into 5 layers of clothing on his way to work. He opens the door and is immediately hit with the sound of his coworkers screaming “Happy birthday, Bucky!” at the top of their lungs.

He stumbles, caught off guard not only by the surprise but by the fact that he completely forgot it was his birthday today.

Natasha throws a handful of confetti at him, laughing at Sam who is demanding her to clean it up immediately.

Wanda grabs Bucky’s hand, leading him to the kitchen where she shows him a decorated vanilla layered cake covered in rainbow frosting for him.

Sam claps a hand on his back, clearly noticing how Bucky hasn’t said a word, overwhelmed by the time and effort that his friends took planning this. His friends. Bucky laughs to himself, he never thought anyone would want to be close to him again after coming back from the military.

Sure, he’s easier to talk to once he familiarizes himself in a place. And sure, his coworkers are super understanding and kind.

But after coming back from war, he’s never made friends.

He lost contact with everyone he knew before.

He’s never gone back to visit his family.

Not only does he usually scare people away the first time he meets them, Bucky’s afraid of seeing the looks of disappoint in the eyes of his loved ones when they notice that he’s not the bubbly, charismatic man he was before.

But maybe that can change.

“You forget it’s your birthday or something, old man?” Sam smirks, rubbing his hand into the planes of Bucky’s back. “Looks like you’ve just seen a ghost or somethin’.”

Bucky smiles up at Sam and the rest of his coworkers, noticing that they’re each wearing little party hats and are nearly all covered in glitter, rainbow icing, and confetti.

He pulls them each into a tight hug. “Yeah, something like that.”

Not long after cleaning up the confetti stuck to the floors and polishing off the birthday cake, Bucky finds himself making a variety of different coffee drinks for the usual morning rush of customers.

His calloused hands fly over the switches of the espresso machine and he busies himself in the monotony of the work.

It’s not until Natasha throws a wash cloth at the back of his head that he notices Steve sitting at one of the tables in the shop. A table closer to the front door and more strikingly, not in his usual nook.

Steve’s hands are tightly folded together as his gaze is entirely focused on one of the windows overlooking the front of the shop.

It’s also one of the first times Steve has come in without his sketchbook, Bucky notices.

He sighs, picking up the wash cloth and walking over to the kitchen to see if Sam has any pastries he’d be able to sneak to Steve.

He doesn’t even have to fully walk through the door before Sam thrusts a plate carrying a warm, disproportionate double chocolate chip muffin into Bucky’s hands.

“You’re too goddamn obvious, Barnes,” Sam said, meeting his eyes. “Go get your boy and get over this teenage crush phase of yours.”

Bucky’s lips quirk up as he rushes out of the kitchen to find Steve’s table. Maybe he’d actually stay and talk to him for a bit this time.

But the moment he steps back out into the store, his heart nearly drops out of his chest.

Directly in his line of vision, Steve stands hugging probably the most breathtakingly beautiful woman Bucky had ever seen. Steve’s large hands completely encircle her waist and he brushes her dark, chestnut hair aside to leave a kiss on one of her rosy cheeks. She does the same to him, laughing when a smudge of bright red lipstick refuses to come off the side of his face.

All Bucky can do is stand there and watch, his jaw almost touching the floor.

He really thought that maybe he had a chance with Steve.

That maybe they would run off and fall in love together like one of those sappy, romantic comedies he and Becca would watch together.

Bucky finally squeezes his eyes shut, pressing the heel of his hand onto his forehead as a desperate attempt to ground himself.

He sulks back over to the espresso machine, tapping Wanda on the shoulder and telling her she can take her break if she’d like. Wanda, seemingly understanding the emotional breakdown currently happening inside Bucky’s head, wraps her arms around him for a quick hug and leaves without any questions asked.

He quickly gets back to work, systematically filling and adding the different components of each drink to the line of cups Natasha has ready for him.

“Peter! Short mint hot chocolate, no whipped cream,” Bucky calls, sliding the drink to the end of the counter.

Peter, the young, brunette, college-aged student, who happens to be one of Bucky’s regular customers, walks over and grabs the drink from the counter top. He turns to face Bucky and gives him a friendly smile.

“See ya, Peter,” Bucky waves over at him from his position at the coffee machine, flipping on a few switches and watching the espresso drip into his next concoction. He watches Peter leave, trying his hardest to ignore the table where he can still see Steve and his friend (or is it a date?) sitting.

He lets his eyes wander on Steve’s features, watching him throw his head back in laughter, leaving a tight feeling in Bucky’s chest. Steve’s eyes flick up towards his and Bucky can’t tear his gaze away. His eyebrows are drawn up in confusion and eyes are full of words left unsaid and all Bucky wants to do is run over there and ask what’s wrong and what this all means, but he’s just a barista, where does he fit in all this?

Bucky scrambles back towards the espresso machine, trying to forget the hard lump in his throat.

After wiping down every inch of the machine once the crowd has dispersed into the store, he asks Sam if he can stay in the backroom for the rest of his shift. He’ll clean up or sort files or do anything to get away from the pangs of jealousy and regret he gets every time he looks towards Steve.

“Of course you can, Bucky. Don’t think you can get away with this every day, though. ‘S only ‘cause it’s your special day.”

Sam walks past Bucky, giving him a final pat on the back, leaving him to the bleak, empty confines of the room. Bucky sits down on the edge of Sam’s desk, pulling his hands up behind his head and allowing himself to take in a few deep breaths. He lets the muffled sounds of customers and coffee machines lull him into a comforting routine, working until Sam tells him they’ve closed up shop.

 

* * *

 

“Bucky, hey!”

Bucky picks his head up at the sound of his name to see Steve making his way over to the cash register with snow-dusted hair and a determined look in his eyes.

“Steve,” Bucky exhales. He really didn’t expect to see Steve again after what happened yesterday. Bucky didn’t know what he expected at all, but to see him the following day, only a few minutes after opening the store, comes as a shock.

Is he here to apologize? Tell Bucky to back the fuck off and stop staring at him?

“What are you doing here?” ...And that probably came out wrong. The man is a paying customer in a coffee shop for chrissakes. He’s probably just here to get a coffee and be on his merry way.

Steve walks up to the register and places both of his hands, which are bundled up in gray knit mittens, up on the counter. “When do you get off work?”

“I, uh-- what?” Bucky stammers. Yeah, he definitely wasn’t expecting that. “I get off, um, at closing. And Sam’s closing early at noon ‘cus of the snow.”

“Good, because I wanted to talk to you in private for a little bit,” Steve answers, moving to take off his mittens and unwind the scarf around his neck. “Don’t be scared or anything, nothin’ bad.”

Steve smiles up shyly at him, waiting for Bucky to reply.

But, thank god for Sam Wilson.

Sam, who probably just overheard their entire conversation, pokes his head up from where he was working on scrubbing the tile floors.

“Barnes, you can take off for today. Doubt we’re gonna be busy. Plus Wanda’s brother’s stopping in at some point today and I was gonna have him train for a little bit anyways.”

Bucky stares, shock written in his face. “But Sam, are you--”

“Yes. Now go,” Sam waves Bucky off, making Steve chuckle behind him.

Bucky turns back around, shrugging his shoulders. “Guess I’ll be out in a couple minutes, then.”

The corners of Steve’s lips curve up into a smile as he stuffs his hands back into his winter jacket. Bucky runs into the back room to pick up his coat and clock himself out, trying to get his nerves under control.

 

After finding everything he needs, he says goodbye to Sam and Natasha and heads over to where Steve is standing, looking out the window and watching people as they walk past the shop.

Bucky may or may not be imagining when he notices Steve’s face soften when he sees Bucky walking up to him.

“So… you wanted to talk to me?” Bucky sighs, running a hand through his long (wow he really needs to go to the hairdressers at some point) hair.

Steve nods hesitantly and motions for them to step outside. They begin walking down the sidewalk, bumping shoulders, silent besides the sounds of their boots crunching in the fresh snow.

Bucky finds it crazy how he’s only known Steve for a few weeks yet they’re already comfortable in each other’s company. However, he can feel a slight tension in the way Steve has been acting today, so he’s a little more anxious than usual.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry… for yesterday,” Steve’s voice trembles slightly.

“Steve you don’t have to explain yourself to me,” Bucky reasons, looking over to gauge any emotion written on his face.

Steve tries to keep his eyes forward, not meeting Bucky’s. “I do though, Buck, I do.” He lets out a deep sigh and puts his hand on Bucky’s back, walking them over to sit on a bench overlooking an outdoor ice skating rink filled with cheerful families and couples.

He eventually looks over at Bucky with a familiar crease in between his eyebrows. “I really like you, Bucky,” Steve says in an exhale. “I’m just-- my life is really fucked up and I just wanted to tell you about it.”

Bucky nods his head, reaching over to thread his fingers into Steve’s hand. After spending what felt like years of being a frozen, emotionless machine in the military, Bucky finally feels warmth and love surround every inch of his body.

“Okay, well,” Steve squeezes Bucky’s hand, “growing up as a kid I was really scrawny and sick and no one ever paid me much attention. Doctors told me I wouldn’t live past the age of eighteen.”

Bucky scoffs and presses his other hand on Steve’s biceps which are nearly ripping his too-tight jacket. “Somehow I find that hard to believe.”

Steve hums in agreement, describing to Bucky about the rest of his childhood growing up in Brooklyn. Their faces lit up after finding out they lived only a few blocks away from each other but never met after going to separate schools. He recollects on how his body completely changed after going through puberty and reaching a growth spurt. Steve explains how people saw him differently, everyone except for his best friend, Peggy.

“We dated all throughout high school and she left to go back to England when I got shipped out to the military,” Steve says, bringing up their intertwined hands to his mouth to blow a puff of warm air on them. “I finished all my tours overseas and being over there, seeing all those people suffering and not being able to save them all, it just-- really destroyed me. When I came back I just wasn’t in the right head-space. I felt like I lost so much time over there, mindlessly following orders and being separated from everyone physically and emotionally for years.”

Steve shifts in his seat, smiling up sadly at a few little kids passing them with ice skates in their hands. “I’m glad I went, don’t get me wrong. We helped take down a lot of horrible people and places and gained a lot of intelligence that I’m sure helped us in more ways than one. I just wish I could’ve helped more and I wish I could’ve been there for my friends and my ma back at home at the same time. The things I’ve seen and the people I’ve come across while I was there just really did a number on my mental health. I struggled a lot with depression when I came back to the states and my anxiety has gotten better over time, but it’s still there. I guess I just wanted to let you know, in case you wanted to hang around me some more in the future or something,” Steve finished lamely, looking up at Bucky for reassurance.

Bucky releases his hand from the other man’s grip, bringing it up to the side of Steve’s face and gently turning his head towards his own. And maybe he's going to ruin everything, but he might as well try. “Steve, can I kiss you?”

“God, yes,” Steve exhales, moving his face close enough so that Bucky can see how long his eyelashes are and how blown his pupils are.

The first press of lips is soft and quick, yet it already leaves warmth curling up the length of Bucky’s spine. Steve threads his fingers into the locks of hair surrounding Bucky’s face and brings their lips crashing together in a wave of passion.

He grabs the front of Steve’s jacket and tugs him closer, opening his lips when he feels Steve lick at them. Bucky feels his heart slamming in his chest, ignoring everything else in the world around him and surrounding himself in the kiss.

Bucky never wants to forget the way Steve tastes like bitter coffee and a hint of cinnamon.

He never wants to forget how much he felt like coming home whenever he was around Steve.

He wants Steve.

Bucky pulls back, resting his forehead on Steve’s. “Well I definitely wasn’t expecting that response,” Steve laughs, bringing their hands together again.

He gives Bucky a chaste kiss on the cheek as he slides back to his end of the bench. Bucky shakes the accumulating snow off his hair and looks towards Steve, who’s smiling like he just won the lottery.

“I really like you Steve, if that wasn’t obvious to you already,” Bucky murmurs, his hand still plastered to Steve’s which isn’t moving anytime soon.

“I really like you too, Bucky,” Steve swallows visibly. “Thanks for listening to everything I had to say about me too. And if you aren’t looking for anything long-term, with my problems and all, I’d totally be fine with something casual I guess... I mean--”

With a scoff, Bucky stands up from his place on the bench and drags Steve off with him. “Stevie, just stop talking.”

 

As Bucky keeps walking, hand tightly clasped onto Steve’s bicep, they make their way closer to the ice skating rink which is now mostly cleared out as families search for somewhere to eat a quick lunch.

“How do you feel about ice skating?” Bucky asks smoothly, without missing a beat.

Steve snorts and drops his head onto Bucky’s shoulder, nuzzling into where his collarbone and neck meets. “I would absolutely love to do that with you.”

Bucky smiles at that and leads the blonde towards the rental shack, picking out two pairs of skates and tickets for them both. He helps Steve tighten his skates after he admits that he’s never gone ice skating before, and makes a promise to help teach him along the way.

A promise that may have to be broken a couple times, maybe.

With Steve holding onto Bucky’s hand like his life depended on it, they make their first steps out onto the fresh, slippery ice. Bucky tries to hold in his laughter when Steve almost immediately stumbles and falls on the ground with both feet up in the air.

For someone as built as an olympic athlete, it’s actually unbelievably ridiculous how clumsy and graceless Steve can be.

Sprawled out on the cold, hard ice, Steve just laughs happily and resorts to having Bucky drag him by the arm until a little girl skating beside them asks him if he’s okay. After assuring her that Steve’s perfectly fine, Bucky pulls him back up on his feet, helping to dust the shaven ice off his jacket.

“You’re such a punk,” Bucky whispers, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Steve’s lips.

His lips were sweet and soft compared to the freezing wind and snow around them and Bucky needed more. Steve issues a weak but blissful sigh, pressing his hand on the nape of Bucky’s neck, sliding his tongue in between parted lips. Bucky moans into it and sucks gently on his lower lip, enjoying the low, needy sounds Steve would breathe out.

Steve gasps and breaks away from the kiss, a bright red flush extending down past his neck. “Jerk,” he gasps, adjusting his pants as he slowly shuffles away on the ice.

Bucky grabs Steve from behind, pulling their bodies impossibly close. With his hands wrapped around Steve’s waist, Bucky nuzzles his neck, leaving a trail of kisses up to his ear and lightly tugs on the lobe with his teeth.

He lets go of Steve to move in front of him, quickly turning his body so that he’s facing the blonde. Bucky stretches his arms out, his heart giving an instant flutter in his chest when Steve tightly grips both of his hands.

Growing up with a little sister, Bucky had always been given the job by his parents to teach her activities like riding a bike or swimming in a pool. He had taken her out to ice skating rinks around their neighborhood all the time during the winter. Becca would always giggle every time Bucky would fall. Bucky would just stick his tongue out at her and turn away on his heel, skating away backwards, which had always been one of his favorite tricks. He always took pride in the way the expressions on Becca’s face would change from ridicule to shock as Bucky effortlessly skated away.

Bucky lowers his head, feeling a pang of guilt as he wonders if Becca had ever gone back to the ice skating rinks after he’d left for the military.

Noticing Bucky’s face fall, Steve squeezes his hand tighter and gives him a soft smile.

Bucky lets himself smile back, trying to ignore the way his heart would do somersaults everytime Steve looked at him like that.

With Bucky skating backwards and pulling Steve along with him, the pair couldn’t help but laugh every time they almost ran into a wall or tripped over a particularly misshapen piece of ice.

After one exceptional fall onto the ice, which so vividly reminded Bucky of Becca and the times he and his friends from home would goof around the ice rink on the weekends, he let go of Steve’s hands and instead took his place bumping shoulders alongside him.

And, it was almost pathetic how easily Steve could already read Bucky like an open book.

“Want to talk about it, Buck?”

Bucky can feel waves of anxiety work their way through his bloodstream, his head pounding and hands trembling slightly.

But Steve told him his entire life story. Steve, who was beautiful and perfect in every way. Steve, who wasn’t afraid of anything or anyone. He had to be strong for Steve. Always.

“I was in the military too,” Bucky blurts out, noticing the way Steve tenses up next to him. “It’s kinda a long story and I’ll spare you most of the details but… God, I don’t even know where to start.”

“Bucky, you don’t need to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with--”

But Bucky keeps going, too caught up in the way his heart is racing and the way Steve is looking at him with his big, blue eyes.

“Not long after I graduated high school, I decided to go into the military. I just kinda, got up and left one day. My parents weren’t too happy about that. My sister cried for weeks, begging me not to go. Didn’t even say goodbye to any of my friends. Never even visited any of them after I came back,” Bucky lets out a cold, harsh laugh. “And that’s not even getting to the bad part yet.”

Steve looks up at Bucky, brushing a piece of hair off the front of his face, and threading his fingers into Bucky’s hand. His thumb brushes across the length of Bucky’s own finger, helping his heart thump less frantically.

Sighing, Bucky explains to Steve how he was a sniper in the front lines. How he had to kill within the blink of eye. How he watched his men get picked off by the enemy, one by one. How they failed one of their missions. How the enemy infiltrated their base and took Bucky as a prisoner of war.

Steve reaches up to wipe away a tear that had fallen down his cheek.

He told Steve how they had left him in a cold, empty cell to starve before dragging him to a medical table and injecting him with all sorts of drugs and toxins. Bucky described how he started to lose touch with himself and the place he was in. How one day his left arm was strong and healthy as ever and the next day it was scarred and disfigured.

“I don’t even know why, but one of the days those pieces of shit went on another mission and left me in my cell with only a few guards keeping watch. I broke out of my conditioning and used what they taught me in basic and martial arts to break myself out of the restraints. The moment the guards opened my cell door to drag me off to the medical tables, I snapped their necks and made a break for it. Probably ran for 10 miles before I found an American base. By that point, I could hardly stand up on my own two feet, and they were just shocked I made it out of there at all,” Bucky paused, letting out a deep breath he had been holding in for too long. “I’ve been back here on honorable discharge ever since. Thank God for Sam Wilson, lemme tell you that.”

Silently, Steve wraps his hands around Bucky’s neck, bringing him in for a crushing hug. “Thank you for telling me that,” he whispers in his ear. Steve kisses the sides of Bucky’s face, letting his lips linger on the places where his tears had stained his cheeks. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

Bucky just shakes his head and lets Steve kiss him, lips coming together in something that is so soft and perfect that Bucky never wants it to end. Bucky’s never felt like this being around someone before. The instant connection and shared life experiences, the way they could easily make each other laugh, the feeling of warmth and affection he felt whenever he saw the other man wander into the coffee shop and sit down with his sketchbook in hand. Is it too early to call it love?

Steve breaks away from the kiss, chuckling at the red flush covering Bucky’s face and the way his pupils look wider than usual.

“Hey, I think I noticed a place selling hot chocolate on the walk over here if you want to go check it out with me?” Steve pokes him in the side.

Bucky gives Steve a devilish grin. “First one to the rental shake gets to pay,” he squeals as he takes off at full speed off the ice rink.

Steve throws his hands up into the air, already admitting defeat. “Buck, that isn’t even fair!” He calls out, but Bucky is already too far gone to even hear it.

 

After almost 5 minutes of Steve slowly shuffling his way over to the rental shack, Bucky pulled him into a hug the moment he stepped off the ice. Steve huffed a laugh into Bucky’s hair, tracing a hand up his back. With a kiss to Steve’s flushed cheek, Bucky motions for him to sit down and undo his skates.

“I don’t even want to hear it--”

“It was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, Stevie! I almost thought for sure that old lady was going to have to escort you back over here,” Bucky bites his lip, trying to keep from laughing. “And I’m gonna buy you the biggest cup of hot chocolate there is. No coffee for today, lord knows you’ve probably had enough of that crap the past few weeks.”

Steve finally pulls his skates off his feet, handing them back to the college student in charge of the rental services, and slipping on his own shoes. He turns back around towards Bucky, slipping their hands together as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Let’s go get hot chocolate, then.”

 

* * *

 

Steve slides into the other end of the booth, blowing out a slow and steady breath onto his steaming mug of hot chocolate.

The store can’t be larger than size of Bucky’s bedroom, and he’s even more surprised that Steve was able to notice it on the walk over to the ice rink.

Bucky sighs and leans back into the cushion, enjoying the smells of freshly baked bread and admiring the way the sun shines perfectly on Steve’s hair. He grins, warmth filling his chest as he slides his foot up the side of Steve’s leg. They both smile goofily at each other, legs tangled with each other underneath the booth and, talking about their plans for the rest of the week.

Bucky finds out that Steve’s a freelance artist, which would explain why he would always carry his sketchbook like it was something sacred whenever he came to the coffee shop. He’s really passionate about his artwork and blushes when Bucky insists that he’s coming to his next art show.

Bucky bites his lip and reaches out for Steve’s hand, savoring the way the other man’s breath hitches when he rubs his thumb over each of Steve’s fingers.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees one of the waitresses, whose name is America according to her hand-drawn name tag, walking over to their table. She unceremoniously places an obscenely large bright green muffin in front of them, crossing her arms as she looks both of them over.

“Crazy boss man needed someone to try out one of the new flavors he’s making. You two lovebirds want to give it a go?”  

Steve nearly spits out his hot chocolate and Bucky lets out a choked gasp. America pats Steve on the back, willing him to get his breathing under control.

“I-- What flavor is it?” Steve manages to ask, his wide eyes meeting Bucky’s gaze.

“I think it’s zucchini and apricot? Something along those lines… Clint’s always trying to outdo the pastry shop down the street,” America lets out an exasperated sigh. “Well, I gotta get going. Let me know how it is, though!”

She dashes off to the next table, leaving Steve and Bucky staring at each other with their mouths wide open in shock. Steve grabs a fork off the end of the table and uses it to poke at the top of the muffin.

“Guess we have to eat it, huh?” Bucky says with a challenging tone in his voice.

Steve throws his head back in laughter, scooping a heap of the strange colored muffin onto his fork and bringing it towards Bucky’s mouth. He parts his lips, letting Steve feed him a piece of the food. And Bucky isn’t ashamed at all when he lets his lips linger on the fork, his tongue cleaning off every inch.

He watches as Steve’s pupils dilate and his jaw drops just a little, staring at Bucky in complete wonder. Bucky smirks, swallowing the rest of the muffin.

He rubs the back of his hand over his mouth and licks his lips. “It’s actually not half bad if I say so myself.”

Steve laughs, splitting the muffin in half and handing over one piece to Bucky. They both wave down America, letting her know that the food was edible and, surprisingly, tasted pretty good. She squeals, running off to let Clint know, which results in a loud crash and a scream of excitement muffled by the swinging kitchen doors.

Bucky smiles, chewing silently as Steve resumes their conversation talking about his ma. Steve laughs at an old memory, sucking a few crumbs off his thumb. Bucky barely resists the temptation to take Steve’s fingers out of his mouth and put them to his own lips.

“I haven’t been to a baseball game with my ma since I was in eighth grade, at least,” Steve recollects sadly, bringing a napkin to his lips and wiping off the last of the traces of muffin from his mouth. “Last time I went to one was probably with Peggy right before she left for England.”

Bucky freezes. He completely forgot about Peggy. God, he was such a dumbass sometimes.

Were they in a long distance relationship or something and he’s just been using Bucky as a side piece? Would Steve just drop Bucky the moment Peggy comes back to the states? Did Steve even really like Bucky or was this all just part of his masterplan to get free food?

He really needed to stop thinking these things.

Steve laces his fingers in Bucky’s hand, giving him a concerned look and encouraging squeeze of his palm, bringing him right back into the conversation. Right, Bucky needed to use his words this time.

“Stevie, do you really want this? With me?”

Steve gives him a lopsided smile and wrinkles his brow. “Of course I do, you jerk. Don’t really go hanging around anyone else’s workplaces just to get the chance to have a 5 minute conversation with them,” he lets out a low laugh. “But seriously, I’d love to take you out on dates and get to call you my boyfriend and do everything in-between with you.”

His _boyfriend_.

Holy fuck.

“But… what about Peggy?” Bucky nearly whispers under his breath, afraid to meet Steve’s eyes.

When Bucky does look up, he watches Steve’s face transform from complete shock and worry to something more lighthearted and understanding. Bucky blinks, waiting for his words to process in Steve’s mind and allow him to verbalize something, anything.

Steve finally gives a choked sigh, leaning over on the table, his eye intense with promise. “Buck, we’re not dating if that’s what you thought. I haven’t went on a date with Peggy since before I left for the military, I-- wait, this about yesterday at the coffee shop isn’t it.”

Steve drops his face into his hands, leaving Bucky even more confused than he was before he bothered to ask his question. He picked his head back up, meeting Bucky’s gaze and sliding the empty plate to the edge of the table for America to pick up later.

“Jesus, I don’t even know how I forgot to mention that Peggy was the one at Brewed Beans with me yesterday. She’s been back in the states visiting her girlfriend, Angie, for a little while and we just decided to catch up with each other as friends. Nothing more, since we obviously have our hearts set on different people.”

It was almost funny how much Bucky’s own heart began to soar at Steve’s words. Pure relief and exuberance spread across his face as he reached over the booth to grab the sides of Steve’s face and pull him in for a deep, passionate kiss.

His entire body ached with impossible love and desire and confusion at how brave and fearless Steve was for admitting his feelings that openly. Bucky smirks into his mouth, leading him further towards his side of the booth, forcing control of the kiss. Bucky gasps when Steve gently bites at his lower lip, running his tongue in soothing circles over it.

After about a minute of embarrassingly making out in public like a bunch of teenagers, Bucky pulls back from Steve, shuffling back into his seat. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots America giving him a thumbs up from her spot near the kitchen doors. He looks over at her and returns a wide toothy grin, brushing a few locks of hair behind his ear.

And to say that Steve looks completely debauched is an understatement. A shudder runs through Bucky just looking at the man in front of him, lips red and bruised, hair tousled, and his eyes… just, fuck.

“Do you want to come hang out at my place for a little bit?” Steve finally asks, breaking the silence. “Yanno, since we’re probably freaking the hell out of some customers practically making out on the table like this.”

“I would love that.”

Bucky pulls out his wallet and leaves a generous tip for America. He reaches out for Steve’s hand, lacing their fingers together and, with his other hand, strokes his thumb along the stubble on Steve’s jaw. Steve smiles warmly, pressing a kiss into the crook of his neck. Opening the door of the cafe and with a final wave back at America, Steves grips Bucky’s hand tighter and leads them back outside.

 

* * *

 

Steve opens the door to his apartment, a cosy little brick building not far from Bucky’s own building. The place is very… Steve.

The entire place is impeccably tidy, yet he can already see many bits and pieces of Steve’s home that are personable and eccentric. He sees a vintage record player sitting on the coffee table. Picture frames of Steve and his friends can be found on every square inch of the apartment.   

What most notably catches Bucky’s eye is the many paintings and portraits hung on the wall. He carefully walks over to one, running the pad of his finger along the frame with meticulous care.

The painting looks to be of a younger Steve and his mother, walking hand in hand through Central Park. The attention to detail that Steve must’ve had while making this completely blows Bucky’s breath away. He captures the feelings of home and comfort through each stroke of the paintbrush, the warm colors embracing Bucky and reminding him of his own childhood.

Steve rubs his hand along Bucky’s back. He can feel the rasp of his stubble against his neck as Steve leaves a trail of kisses there. Bucky breathes out slow, feeling the most comfortable he’s ever been since his days in the military.

And, isn’t that a thought.

Bucky comfortable and inside the house of the most perfect man he’s ever gotten the chance to meet.

Even though they haven’t known each other for long, Bucky feels a deep, ardent connection between him and Steve, something he’s never felt before. He doesn’t even know how he got this lucky.

Steve lets a ghost of his breath onto the side of Bucky’s neck right before he lightly teases the skin in between his teeth. Bucky gasps, turning around to face Steve.

He brings both of his hands to Steve’s hips, swaying them side to side and doing his best to ignore the waves of arousal he feels around the blonde.

“Buck, what are you even doing,” Steve chuckles, threading his fingers through Bucky’s hair. “There’s not even any music playing, you meatball.”

Bucky throws his head back and laughs, watching Steve’s eyes sparkle in the rays of sunlight shining through his living room window.

“You don’t need music when you start singing a song in your head. Just use your imagination Steve, don’t ruin the mood.”

Bucky slowly slides his hands up Steve’s torso, running his fingers over the other man’s rippling muscles hidden under his heavy knit sweater. Steve looked adorable in it but Bucky definitely wouldn’t mind at all if the sweater was abandoned right at this moment.

Seemingly noticing Bucky’s burning need to tear each other’s clothes off, Steve brings his hands to rest over Bucky’s, pulling them away from his body despite Bucky’s complaining.

“Hey, just wait,” Steve giggles, walking past Bucky towards a small hallway where two other rooms were. “I just wanted to show you something real quick.”

 

Bucky follows behind him and closes his eyes when Steve asks him to, allowing himself to be dragged to one of the rooms with Steve’s hands gripping his shoulders. He hears some shuffling going on in front of him but resists the temptation to peek just a little.

Finally, after Steve tells him that he can look, Bucky opens his eyes and sees what’s probably the most jaw-dropping painting he has ever been in the presence of. And to make it even more special, it’s a portrait of himself. At the coffee shop. He’s holding a carton of milk in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other with coffee grinds smeared across his forehead and his hair tied up in a sloppy bun, how he’s worn it more often than not. A few pieces of hair dangle in front of his face as he looks off in the distance, a faint blush coating his cheeks and his smile stretching across his face.

It’s absolutely breathtaking and Bucky can’t even find words to use to describe it. He just stands there, mouth open in shock and awe as Steve holds the painting in front of him with a nervous smile spread across his face.

When he’s finally able to find his voice, Bucky’s surprised it’s not ridiculously high-pitched or choked up.  

“You -- you really see me like this?”

“Yeah I do, Buck. You’re the most beautiful guy I’ve ever met -- inside and out.”

Steve gives him another tentative smile, placing the piece of art carefully back into a case where a few other pieces were stored. They must be in some type of art studio, Bucky noticed, taking in his surroundings. The natural light coming through the massive windows were perfect for drawing, and Steve even had a small couch set up, overlooking the city below.

“Well, I’m yours,” Bucky grins, walking over to Steve and placing his hand on his cheek, rubbing smoothing circles into the skin flushed from being out in the snow. “For as long as you’ll have me. I’m with you to the end of the line, pal.”

Bucky hoped he wasn’t moving too fast. He wanted a future with Steve in it. Whether that'd be smothering Steve with kisses whenever he’d liked or growing old and adopting a bunch of animals, and coming home from work to find Steve sprawled across the couch. He wanted.

Steve eyes Bucky and bites his lip, nodding ever so slightly.

He meets Bucky’s mouth with force this time, parting his lips and tangling their tongues in a rush of heat and passion. Steve reaches out and curls his fingers into the loops of Bucky’s jeans, pulling his body flush against his own. Bucky meets every adrenalized little and caress that Steve gives him, learning it and confidently giving it right back.

“Bedroom,” Steve gasps as his back hits the wall, his fingers clenching briefly in Bucky’s hair.

 

After minutes of what feels like stumbling towards the bedroom, hastily ripping each others clothes off, Bucky rips Steve’s jeans off in one swift motion, letting him lay flat on the bed naked and waiting. Bucky hovers over him, his fingers ghosting over his chest, watching as Steve’s nipples perk up when he plays with them.

Bucky brings his mouth to Steve’s left nipple, sucking and nibbling at the hardened nub. He smiles when he hears Steve’s breath catch above him.

He slowly works his tongue down Steve’s torso, slowly licking and leaving kisses all the way down his body until the warmth of his breath tickles the other man’s cock. Steve gasps, letting out a whine as Bucky licks and nips at his upper thighs, saving the best for last.

Finally, Bucky runs his tongue over the head of Steve’s cock and over a thick vein running along it. Steve sighs and lets Bucky’s warm, wet mouth completely swallow him up to the root. He could spend all day with the taste and feel of Steve on his tongue, enjoying the wrecked little sounds coming from Steve’s mouth. Steve brushes a hand across Bucky’s cheek, tilting his head so that they can both see each others heated gaze.

“Steve... can I?” Bucky says, letting Steve’s cock slide out of his mouth with a wet pop.

Steve lays back further into the bed, spreading his legs and giving him an encouraging smile. “Yes, Buck. I’m all yours. Always yours.”

Bucky smiles back, rushing up to meet him in a quick, sensual kiss. Steve pulls back, leaning back to get a better look of Bucky.

Steve gently traces the lines of Bucky’s scars across his left arm, leaving tender kisses on every inch.

A tear nearly slips from Bucky’s eyes, overwhelmed with Steve’s endless love and compassion.

He was worried Steve would be disgusted, completely repulsed by his intense scar tissue covering his entire shoulder and down his arm. It’s always been a constant reminder to Bucky that he’s damaged. That he’s a broken man.

“Beautiful,” Steve breathes in, pressing kisses up Bucky’s shoulder, towards the very last scar.

Steve tilts Bucky’s face up for another kiss as he clumsily reaches over towards his nightstand, grabbing lube and condoms. Bucky breaks apart from Steve’s mouth, leaving him with a final kiss.

Bucky can’t help but laugh, holding up the comically full bottle of lube and extra large package of condoms. “We’re definitely going to be using most of these tonight.”

 

* * *

 

Picking up Steve’s throw blanket from the other end of the couch, Bucky curls up underneath it, watching as the blonde makes his way over from the kitchen, carrying two bowls of pasta.

“My savior!” Bucky calls out, making grabby-hands at Steve until he hands him the food. Steve grins, tangling his feet with Bucky as he sits next to him on the leather couch.

Steve grabs the remote, scrolling through the TV channels until they decide to watch a really lame sitcom Bucky’s never heard before. They exchange lazy kisses, ignoring the show in favor of learning and exploring their bodies with their tongues.

It’s only when they stop kissing, like the horny adults they are, when Bucky realizes he’s probably overstayed his welcome.

Bucky turns his head towards Steve from where he was laying on his chest. “Hey, I should probably get going. I have work tomorrow morning and I could probably grab a taxi back home or something.”

Steve gives him a concerned look, biting his lip in worry. And… fuck he needs to stop being so damn cute every second of the day, it’s really not fair. Bucky wants to rub his finger to smooth the crease between Steve’s eyebrows and never leave.

“I don’t think any of the taxis are, uh, operating now. I could be wrong but. You could stay here tonight if you wanted to.”

He feels an immediate weight get lifted off his chest, letting a wide toothy grin spread across his face. Bucky snuggles back into his spot on Steve’s clothed chest, leaving soft kisses on the fabric.

“I would love that,” Bucky smiles into his chest, breathing him in. “I’ll try not to wake you in the morning, but no promises.”

Steve looks down at Bucky, mirroring his smile. “Well who’s to say I’m not going to be one of the first customers in line tomorrow?”

Bucky chuckles, letting Steve brush his fingers through his hair, working out the knots and smoothing out the untamed waves framing his face.

“Maybe I’ll add two cartons of milk to your order this time, since I apparently got so lucky adding just one in,” Bucky says softly.

Steve flicks Bucky’s ear, letting out a warm laugh.

“Yeah nevermind, maybe I’ll just stay here instead,” Steve giggles.

With a smirk and absolutely no shame at all, Bucky knocks Steve off the couch, sending the blanket and the bowls of pasta to the floor with him.

And God, he’s completely in love with Steve Rogers.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow this is crazy! I've been reading Steve/Bucky fics for years and finally decided to write my first work.  
> Hope everyone enjoys it!


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